Sixth Year
by Lucy in a Blackberry
Summary: Devan Fagan. Eve Cellars. Sara Crowley. These three Gryffindor girls are in for a ride as sixth year progresses, swimming pools are discovered, promises get broken, and professional quidditch players stalked.
1. Goldfish, Monkeys, and Elephants, Oh My!

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

* * *

I ran up the stone steps, skipping the seventh stair, and skid to a stop in front of Eve and Sara.

"Oi, mates, you will _never_ guess who ju-" I began.

"Ben O'Mallory," Eve says in one breath with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Quidditch player of the year. Nominations, last night. Ben. O'Mallory!"

Sara rolls her eyes, "Please Evie, the only reason you knew before Dev, Gossip Queen Extrodinare, is because you bloody stalk the bloke."

"I do not," protests Eve. Sara and I stop walking. We turn and look at her, my eyebrow quirks and Sara puts a hand on her hip.

"I don't!"

"So, you also don't have his picture charmed into your Divination notebook," I state.

"Or inside the locket Graham gave you," chimes in Sara.

"Fine, fine, fine," Eve pouts a little. "I stalk him. A bit. Just a bit! And it's perfectly normal. Just 'cause _I_ happen to like the male species a little more than the two of yo-"

"A _little_ more?" Sara grabs Eve, "A little more? Devan hasn't even had her first boyfriend, I'm on my first, and you? I believe the total, since starting when you were _twelve_, is seven! We're in the beginning of October, sixth year. That's like, two boyfriends a year! Not even mentioning that unhealthy obsession with Ben O'Mallory. He's just a quidditch player anyway."

Now it's Eve and I who stop moving. Responding! Breathing. But only for a second, as dramatics can only go so far before you're blue in the face.

"_Only_ a quidditch player?" I fake-scream ask, "He is not _only_ a quidditch player. He is _the_ best seeker since Victor. Krum. Victor Krum. Since Krum!"

"Not to mention how swoon worthy he is. I mean, Krum? Brilliant quiddith player but, not so attractive. O'Mallory? Brilliant quidditch player, and so attractive," gushes Eve.

"Whatever," Sara draws out the word as long as possible. She really enjoys saying that word like that. Hmm, with the open mouth, she sort of looks like a fish.

"Sara, you look like a goldfish," I inform, being the good friend that I am.

Eve shakes her head, "No, no, Dev. Goldfish are more like this." Eve opens her hazel eyes wide, causing creases to appear in her normally smooth freckled forehead, sucks in her cheeks and pushes out her lips while her hands waggle like fins behind her ears.

"As stated before," Sara rolls her eyes, disguising a smile, before dragging out her next word to the States and back, "Whatever. Besides, Evie's goldfish is nothing compared to my monkey." Puffing out her cheeks, she pulls her ears out from behind her pale, orange hair and bulges her eyes while performing a little monkey hop. Eve and I laugh.

"Please, girls," I say with my best attitude face on. "Like either of those could compare with my elephant."

Handing my bag to a bemused Eve, I bring the middle of my upper, right arm to my mouth and protrude my pointer finger over my bum, wiggling it like a tail. "Mmmmmmmmhrrrrrrrr!" I trumpet, galloping down the corridor and back, "Mmmmmmmmhrrrrrrrr!"

"Ladies!" Oh no, McGonners. We're goners. "Ladies. What are you doing, representing Gryffindor like this?! Acting like zoo animals. And class! You have about a minute to get to, I believe Charms? Never mind, just go. And two points off, each. For misconduct in the halls," McGonagall stares us down from atop her spectacles before swishing her cloak and gliding away.

"Buggering fuck," Sara swears. "Heads are chosen this year. I've got to start shaping up or I might not get it."

"Sara, I totally support you and all that jazz but, honestly. Why do you _want_ to be Head Girl, again?" asks Eve.

"Because! Because…well, it's what I do. I mean," Sara fumbles for words, a rare occurrence. "It's just what I do. You're the girly Seeker. Fact. Dev's the-the odd one! You know it's true. And I'm? Well, I'm the nerd, aren't I? The Wannabe-Ravenclaw Gryffindor. The-"

I cut her off, "First off, bell really is 'bout to ring. Second, ouch! The odd one? I'm _not_. That would be Grace Bronson! Do you even remember third year?" Eve nods supportively. I continue, and hide a little grimince. "And third, I think if you want to be Head Girl, be bloody Head Girl! But don't feel expected to. Evie and I will love you no matter."

Sara rolls her eyes, "Whatever, come on though, Flitwick'll be waiting!" Then her smile leaks out, "And thanks, Devan. I mean it."

"Oh, don't go gushy on me now," complains Eve, " I'll have to put an ad in the Prophet. Wanted: two new best friends. Requirements: ungushy, supportive of any stalkerish habits, and willing to fetch things fo-" Eve gets cut off by the bell and Sara grabs our hands, tugging us down the hall.

"Shit," Sara frowns as the bell's last rings end before we manage to enter the classroom.

"Crowley, Cellars, Fagan. You're late again. I'm sorry, but three times and I've got to give out detentions. Meet Filch on Saturday outside his office at two," squeaks Flitwick. Double, bloody Godric's balls, this means we're missing Hogsmeade.

* * *

After a grueling day of classes I collapse onto the oak bench at the Gryffindor table, "I'm starved."

"You're always starved, Fagan." Weasley's voice says reproachfully. I hate that voice. Not that I'd ever say it to his face.

"Oh, leave her alone, Louis," Eve says, saving me. I shoot her a winning smile between bites of shepherd's pie. "And tryouts are tomorrow night, right?"

"Yeah, but it'll probably be the same team," Weasley shrugs and turns away to converse with Fred.

Underneath her breath, Eve begins again, "I honestly can't figure out why you don't like him. He's really ni-"

Sara plops onto the seat beside me, back from her Prefects meeting, and interrupts Eve's ninety-thousandth time of trying to convince me that Weasley's a fantastic person. Not that I think he's awful. I just...don't particularly like the bloke. At all. Not that I've just singled him out as a terrible peson, I mean, I dunno. I _really _hated him in the beginning, and old habits are hard to break?"Oh Eve, you know she's just holding grudges from second year when he transfigured her bag into a cat and it pissed all over her robes." What?!

"I am not! I admit, that _was_ one of the times I absolutly, fully hated him, but I mean...I just-he, ugh." I search for words, "He just- infuriates me. Yes, infuriates me. That's it."

"Dev, _you_ infuriate me sometimes," Eve points out like it's some sort of amazing argument. "But you don't see me drawing caricatures of you and playing darts."

"Merlin's teapot, that was _one_ time. One time!" I protest, as it really was just _one_ time in third year. "One bloody time when I was thirteen! Thirteen. Thirteen year olds always are running high emotionally."

This last bit I must have said rather loudly as Roxanne, my favorite of the Potter/Weasley clan, came over lamenting, "Hey, I'm a third year!"

Sara's eyes flick to the ceiling and back, "I think that was her point, Roxy."

Roxanne frowns, "Don't call me Roxy! It's Anne, or Roxanne. You've known me, what? Three-four years? You're dating my cousin? Learn the name, Sara. Plus, we all know I'm Dev's favorite."

I smirk, "Do we?"

"Oh, shut it you two. We _do_ all know Anna Banana is Devy Dear's fav. Too bad no one cares. So shoo, insignificant third year, shoo. I've important things to say," Eve waves Roxanne off and she goes complaisantly enough, then throws up a middle finger when she's returned to her seat. I wink, and Eve continues, whispering, "Okay, you know that odd, little bedroom we always sat in last year? Well, get this. It's the Room of Requirement."

Sara shoots her a questioning look, "But that was destroyed, with fiendfiye."

"I know!" Eve nods energetically before explaining further, "But remember how we discovered it? Who discovered it? Why we discovered it?"

"Eve, I don't want to talk about that," I squeeze my eyes tight and frown. And I don't. I really don't. Rowena damned.

"We remember, Eve," assures Sara as she squeezes my hand, looking uneasy.

"Sorry, but I had to bring it up, it was key in me figuring out the Room." Eve takes a bite of her peas, "Okay, last weekend when I was walking back from Hagrid's hut I decided to check on our room. But I couldn't find it. I must have looked for a quarter of an hour until, the door appeared. But it appeared with this house elf coming out! All muttering and such. Stuff about doorknobs, butterbeer, and couches. I didn't really understand. But! I got a peek into the room she exited, thinking it was ours. It wasn't. It was this little, yellow bedroom! Before I could get in however, the door disappeared. So I walked away, came back, and _our_ room appeared an-"

"And you tested it out and now we know where the Room of Fucking Requirement is!" Sara excitedly blurted.

"Sara! Telling a story here. But, yeah. Catch is, and this is why Dev found the room: you can't wish for anything, _any_thing red. Maybe 'cause fiendfyre's red and all that. I figured that out when I wished for our common room and a door appeared, but when you opened it there was a wall. Just like, a wall. Behind a door. It was a lot of trial and error, but I think I got it in the end," Eve finishes saying "And I was thinking, what do we not get to do here that we long for?"

"Not wear robes?" I ask. Godric, it could be anything. "Not sleep in, not-"

"No, Dev! Swim, swim!"shouts Eve, attracting some onlookers.

Sara laughs, "Keep it down, Evie. When should we go?"

"Tonight? After dinner? Right now?" I grin manically, "Does it matter? Hogwarts finally has a swimming pool!"

* * *

"Hogwarts finally has a swimming pool" alright, OTHER than the hidden one. *muffles giggles over AVPM referance*. Also, like the Winky referance? You've read so, review?


	2. Sara's Picture and Ice Cream Nightmares

Disclaimer: I still disclaim...

* * *

Eric Jordan has inscrutable handwriting. Point blank, it's the most awful handwriting I've ever seen in my short life of sixteen years. It's worse than chicken scratch. I groan and toss another loose paper out of the leather trunk. Where are those Dumbledore forsaken notes?!

It's October 13th and I, well, I have the shivers. And a fever. And a massive headache. And a self-appointed task of learning Monday's potion lesson, and a sore throat, and also newfound knowledge regarding the fact that, if you insist on going night swimming in October, in Scotland, in a drafty castle, it isn't wise to run through stone hallways wearing nothing but water, an invisibility charm, and a bikini. No matter how cute and French said bikini is. No matter if it'd take you ten whole minutes, or so, longer to locate a robe. It's not a good idea. Example A: Me. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I'm wearing three sweaters, a hat, leggings and pajama bottoms, fingerless mittens, and two pairs of socks in the boys' dormitory attempting to decipher Eric Jordan's Potion notes. Turns out it was actually quite moronic, who woulda thunk it? Someti-wait! Yes! Score!

I proudly clutch four pieces of parchment filed under Recreational Potions and reluctantly stand from the plush red carpet when something catches my eye. Sticking out from under the left bedpost is…Sara? Well, a picture of Sara at least! I glance around the empty room with moot apprehension and then stride towards the photo. It's Sara laughing. Her Persian orange hair catches the sun and turns into a violent sandstorm as the sun and wind whip it around her face, at times obscuring her affable smile from view. The Black Lake is visible in the left hand corner and in the right Sara waves a clutched test tube. I remember when this was taken, it was last year! The Herbology project. Eric, Sara, and Maddy Selleck were studying the effects of eel grass on grindylows. I was in a group with Ryan Keller and Fred. Weasley that is. But fifth year projects aside, I smile, this photo?

Means that Eric Jordan likes Sara! …probably, hopefully! It does make sense. If I think about it, there are definitely tell-tale signs.

I sequel, "Eric likes Sara!"

Jumping from bed to bed, I rejoice. Eric likes Sara, Eric likes Sara, Eric likes Sar-wait. I suddenly sink onto the mattress I've just leaped to with an even bigger headache, and a thoguht: what about Albus? Sara already has Albus! I love Albus, I really do. Everybody loves Albus. He's just one of those guys; one of those really nice, super friendly, perfect guys. Too bad Sara is one of those girls; one of those really nice, super friendly, perfect girls. I mean, they do have faults. Sara especially. But for the most part, they're quite identical and, in _my _opinion, being the meddling friend that I am, Sara needs a boy that will challenge her. Albus and Sara are basically best friends that occasionally snog. I open my mouth to yawn, and sneeze instead. Ugh, maybe I'll just have a quick nap.

* * *

_"I'll take one butterbeer," I smile at the Leaky Cauldron's bartender._

_He frowns and says "Miss, I only serve Ravenclaws."_

_"I-I am a Ravenclaw," I argue. "Wit and wisdom, I ooze it!"_

_"Miss, if you're a Ravenclaw…well, then I'm a hypogriff!" He scoffs, "Why don't you try Florean's next door, and get yourself some nice ice cream."_

_"I don't like ice cream," I screech. Immediately the door opens, and the bar is flooded with light. A giant eagle soars into the room and claws at my face. I start running, its claws slashing my back. Shoving tables out of my way I dash for the quickly shutting door, six metres, two metres, almost there. Sweat pours from my neck and mixes with the blood on the floor, I push with my right hand to keep the door open and the eagle jabs its cutting beak into my wrist. Falling, I yell once more, "I just don't like ice cream!"_

"Fagan, wake up!"

Groaning, I shake my head, only to push my cheek into drool. My drool, ew. I open my eyes, shit. I'm still in the boys' dorms.

"Shit."

Weasley grimaces, "Is that drool...on my pillow?"

I cock my head, "Your pillow?" Glancing around the bed, I rest my eyes on the table beside, and a picture of the Weasley-Delacour family on vacation. Right. His pillow. "Well, see-I..I didn't know it was your pillow. Or your bed!"

His eyebrows scrunch, temporarily ruining his Veela face. "How could you not know it was my bed? Look around! And what was with the screaming?" He puts on a mock-me voice, "'I don't like ice cream!' Only you could have a nightmare about ice cream."

"Hey! It wasn't just about ice cream," I defend myself. "Besides, why are you here? Don't you have class?"

Weasley smirks, "Cancelled. I actually just came to get my broom, I want to get some practice in before we squash your brother's team on Saturday."

Jerk. "I care because?"

Weasley rolls his eyes and prepares to retort when Eric waltzes in, I shove the picture of Sara into the blankets. Weasley catches the sudden movement, "Wha-"

"Eric!" I blurt, cutting Weasley off. "I borrowed your Potion notes."

Eric gives a start, "Dev…why are you in Louis' bed? Drooling?" He laughs, "You drool."

I scowl, "I know."

Louis grabs his broom, "When I get back my pillow better be drool free, and my bed better be Fagan free."

He slams the door. What a drama queen. I slid back into the covers, I think his bed is more comfortable than mine. That's not fair. Oh, idea!

"Hey, Errrric!" I smile beguilingly.

Eric raises an eyebrow. "Hey, Deeeev."

"You want to help me steal Weasley's maaaaaattress?" I sparkle my eyes as best as I can and grin.

"How about," he pauses dramatically and pretends to think. "No. How about no?"

"Fine, be like that." I pompously rise from the bed and knock the covers to the ground. I pick up the Potion notes and slid Sara's picture underneath my feet to Eric's corner of the room. He doesn't notice. "I guess I'll just leave."

Nose in the air, I give a world class hrumph and stride as best as a sick person can to the door. Closing it, I hear Eric mutter good-naturedly under his breath, "Drama queen."

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A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who followed this story! It made me really happy, sorry I haven't updated..I've been busy and such. Also, this was a really short chapter, sor-rey.


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